2-16-2010

The transference of information from one medium to another often gives rise to another layer of understanding of that information, neither literal nor figurative. The relationship between otherwise insignificant details and the memories, associations, and emotions of the person viewing this information is what enriches the transfer. A picture can be described in words, but the person doing the describing may miss the one key detail that makes it all click, puts into perspective, for the person hearing the description. It's important to remember that all the information was there from the start; it was simply less visible in one medium than in another. It makes me wonder if, despite this new and rich knowledge coming out of the transfer, there was some other layer of information lost from the original. Putting a spoken tale to print gives the reader the ability to look back to refresh their memory on any part of the story previously told, and it allows for the visual quality of the words to be seen, but is that worth the tradeoff? Speech offers the sound of the language, and while words can be spoken again once they're recorded, those who have not heard the original story may emphasize or emote differently from the original.

Basho's haikus teach us to make use of productive ambiguity, the choice of words through which we may convey a secondary meaning. This is common practice in poetry, but it's only useful in the original language of the poem. Any translations, using a new language, will result in new and different ambiguities, completely apart from anything the author originally intended. This is an interesting parallel to the medium translation - the transference from print to film, spoken word to digital recordings, must be done with great care to ensure translation of intent and meaning as well as literal words. The use of this productive ambiguity can be a great asset or a terrible drawback. Essence is not affected by appearance, but appearance can convey mood, atmosphere, and feeling. There's also this idea of a revelation or epiphany as a device to share mood.

Much of this chapter is dedicated to the discussion of content versus intent - content is a result of and reveals intent. However, intent is widely interpolation from content, which reveals at least as much about the reader (the interpreter) as the writer (the creator, whose intent is being assumed). This raises an interesting question for the mystory: when you are both writer and reader, can you be trusted to find your own intent accurately, or are you reading yourself and your works and guessing at your own motivations?